


Letters To My Soulmate

by Zoe13



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Self-Harm, Soulmate AU, near-suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:30:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe13/pseuds/Zoe13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt deals with the bullying by looking forward to one thing: meeting his soulmate-</p>
<p>Until his soulmate, David Karofsky, comes to McKinley High. Kurt has to deal with being bullied by his soulmate and falling for the new boy, Blaine Anderson, who surely has his own soulmate out there somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is an au, some things have been left out, altered, or added in. Blaine is Kurt's age and in his grade, Finn has been Kurt's step-brother for a while, and so on. I hope you enjoy this!

May 2, 2011

Hey. My name's Kurt Hummel- but you know that already, don't you? This is, after all, more of a long letter than a diary, and since it's to my soulmate, you would have my name on your wrist. I hope that once we meet we'll have plenty of time to talk, but I also want you to read this. 

I'm Kurt Hummel, I'm gay, and, currently, I'm seventeen years old. I love fashion, have been bullied since I began highschool, live for music, and absolutely loooove broadway. Seriously, you had better be one classy man, because if I get a gangster as a soulmate, someone will pay. A beach boy would be workable, but someone like Puck would never do. Or a jock. Jocks remind me of dumpsters. 

Moving on. Today has been rather boring. Finn (he's my step-brother, in case you don't know when you read this) is still asleep, even though it's one p.m. He parties a little too hard over the weekend. My dad and Carole went out for a lunch and I'm home alone right now, just thinking about you. 

Alright, that came out more creepy and less romantic than I thought it would. But I've made a resolution never to erase anything I write (unless I misspelled something, of course) because I talk like this anyway. 

There's so much about you I want to know. Are you tall or short? Thin, or well-built? Romantic, or not? Quiet, or talkative? I'd try describing myself, but you'll know me already; at least, I hope you will. Looks-wise, I mean. Everything else will sort of come together over the years in this diary. 

Also, as a warning, I am an extreme romanticist. Seriously, it's a little over-the-top, but I can't help it. Finn tells me all the time that you had better be the silent romantic type because I talk to much and love romance. I hope you don't think I talk too much. 

I need to go, now. I'm going to try to write in this daily, but I know I won't be able to be quite that diligent. 

Yours,  
Kurt. 

 

May 3, 2011

Homework is the worst thing to have ever been invented. At least, that's what I think, and I've had to look at Rachel Berry's animal sweaters for a year. 

She's absolutely insane, but she's manageable. I've had to tolerate her for the past few months since she started dating Finn and we actually get along better now . . . though she still needs some serious fashion help. She and Finn get all the duets now, though, and it's really disappointing. I know I can sing at least pretty well, and you'd think they'd let someone else borrow the spotlight for like . . . two minutes? Seriously. And why does Finn get to be popular and have all the duets? Grr. It's aggravating. Maybe you'll come to school before I graduate and we'll meet and sing duets together. Oh, I really hope you can sing. I love it so much.

Finn's over at Rachel's house and Dad's working on a car, so it's just me and Carole. I can hear her laugh slightly whenever I burst into song, but I don't care. I love music too much. 

For a while I thought I'd go into fashion- maybe work for Vogue and design clothing. Even now it still sounds fantastic, but I think music is it for me. Broadway, and all that. I'd kill to get into NYADA. Well, depending on who (whom?) I needed to kill. If it was one of the jocks? No problem. They'd be too dumb to know what   
hit them anyway. Besides, who'd think of me as a suspect?

Oh dear. Here comes my quietly violent side I'd hoped to never show you. Hopefully you think it's funny, at least. 

I'm off! Gotta eat dinner. Dad should be back soon, and Finn's staying with Rachel until late. 

Yours,  
Kurt. 

May 5, 2011

School, school, school. It's terrible. I got slammed into a locker today and my back has a nasty bruise. I bruise horrifically. If someone punched me in the face, I'd have a fist imprinted on it. It's awful. I'm always covering up stuff with makeup because the purple is really bad with my complexion. Seriously, you should see it. Of course, the dumb jocks probably don't even know which people they're loosing into. I'll bet Puck thought he elbowed Rachel or Mercedes aside. Ha. Maybe when I meet you we'll laugh at them together, right? If I don't laugh, I might cry. And who would be so hilariously snarky then?

That's what I thought. 

Oh! Mercedes is here. I'll write soon!

Yours,  
Kurt. 

May 6, 2011

'Cedes and I went shopping, and I found this amazing scarf. I managed to match it to my favorite coat and it looks fantastic. I'll be sad to put it away in the summer,but it just won't work that time of year. I can't wear it too often anyway. That would be ridiculous. The only other remotely fashionable person at McKinley just moved away. I think her name was Rose or something. Anyway, she had some good clothes. At least she never wore the same thing twice in one week like everyone else tends to do, even around finals. I've only talked to her once, but she seemed okay. Oh, well, I'll jut have to live without seeing her wonderful blazer collection again. I hope you like blazers. I think they look good on girls or guys (depending, of course, on how you wear them). And vests. I really like vests. (And no, not sweater vests). 

Anyway, now you know I really, really love fashion. It will come in handy if I'm ever famous some day, I suppose. 

I was wondering today: what color are your eyes? Everyone wishes for green, but I personally like hazel or brown. I'm not sure why. I think they're underestimated in beauty. I saw a man once with these goldish eyes, and I thought 'I wish my soulmate had amber colored eyes.' I mean, obviously I'll love you any way that you are, but I really like that eye color. 

I really hope you don't think I'm weird.   
Yours,  
Kurt

May 7, 2011

Damn those stupid jocks. They ruined my white button-down shirt in another dumpster dunk. Why do they hate me so much? Ugh. I need to calm down somehow. Puck's such an idiot. Today he said, 'why do you dress like that?' in such a stupid voice, and I told him, 'because if I dressed like you, everyone I looked at would think I was trying to sell them drugs.' Of course, he wasn't very happy, so I got double-dunked. Whatever. Someday they'll all work for me. 

I'm so impatient to meet you. I hope I'm not too impatient. I just really want to know you. I wonder if I'll even be in highschool when I meet you. I could meet you when I'm famous someday. 

Oh, that would be so romantic. Maybe you'd go to a show on Broadway and see me up there singing and then you'd look at the pamphlet and there would be my name. 

Do I sound like Rachel? Oh dear, I'm starting to sound like her!

I think I need a break to calm down.   
Yours,  
Kurt

May 11, 2011

I can't wait! There are a couple of new students transferring and- what if you're one of them? I'd only have a few entries in this, but we could always finish it together. Oh, please be transferring here. I feel lonely, sometimes, because no one seems to like me all that much, but I know you would. We're soulmates, after all.   
'Cedes is hoping her soulmate will come, too. I feel bad for her, though; her's will be harder to find because her mark is on her shoulder and she'll have to see their shoulder to know if they have her name. 

Okay, I need to take a minute to calm down. I'm just so excited!

Hope to see you tomorrow!   
Yours,  
Kurt 

May 17, 2011

I am such an idiot. So, so stupid. Why did I ever think you would be magical, perfect? Because nothing works out for me! Nothing! Of course you'd be so scared you'd spend our first week together beating the shit out of me. You weren't supposed to be scared to be my soulmate. You were supposed to help me not be. You were supposed to love me and make the stupid jocks not even matter anymore. 

Fuck my life and fuck you! You know the worst part? this whole week while you were calling me names and shoving me around our damn bond kept tugging at me, kept making every word hurt that much more because we're fucking soulmates!

I should have known. I really should have.

Your soulmate,  
Kurt

 

May 19, 2011

Why does it have to hurt?

Before I could be snarky, I could be confident and happy, because of one thing: I knew that someday I would meet you and I believed that you would save me. But now I've met you and you...hate me. You hate me because I'm your soulmate and you don't think you can be gay. Well guess what, 'Karofsky', that's my name on your wrist! And it's never gonna go away.

Kurt

 

May 21, 2011

I think I know how to be perfect. I've just started, but-

Well, I've got to try. Over the past month and a half I've realized that maybe I'm just not worth coming out for. Maybe I'm really not as wonderful as I think I am.   
I'm starting small, skipping meals and only throwing up when I eat too much. I'm 5'10" and 150 lbs, and I suppose I need to lose a lot. Well, 148 lbs now, as i lost two last week. 

It's not fast enough, though.

Santana asked me if I was alright earlier. Well, more like she said I wasn't acting so much as if I had pixie dust coming out of not-so-nice places. But it was still nice that Santana Lopez of all people wanted to know if I was okay. When I said yes, she 'made sure' that I knew she'd only asked because she was worried about glee club and me failing. 

But then you called me a fag and I made things worse by crying. I'm so weak sometimes, but I couldn't help it. You got right up in my face and called me that and our bond just pulled at me, and I couldn't NOT cry...

I need to go. The ink of my pen is smearing because I'm crying again. 

I'm sorry I'm not good enough. I will be.  
Kurt

 

May 22, 2011

I feel cold. Really cold. And not on the outside, but inside. My heart feels a little frozen. 

Mr. Schue gave me a solo and we performed last week. I sang 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand' and everyone in glee club told me it was really, really good. 

I was happy, Karofsky. Really happy. But then you caught me later on and said- you said so much, and it hurt so, so much. 

I've quit glee club. 'Cedes keeps asking why but I told her I was too busy. I leave school right after class, now, and I do homework during lunch so I don't see her often, but it's probably best for her to not be seen with the gay kid anyway. 

You told me you would kill me if I showed anyone your name on my wrist, and so I still keep it covered. It hides the scars and cuts I've made on my wrists, because when people ask about my long sleeves, I tell them that I'm hiding my soulmate's name until I meet them. Lots of people do it, so it's not a surprise.

The cutting was an accident. You shoved me into my locker and I cut my hand and...

Well, I had to try again because the feeling I got was so amazing. It hurt, of course, but that was the good part.

I miss believing that I was perfect and you would be too.

Kurt

 

August 15, 2011

The first day of school is tomorrow. I'm about ready to shoot myself to avoid it. 

Haha. That was...not funny. 

I've not lost near enough. I'm still 122 lbs. I've only lost 26 lbs over the summer because Carole keeps forcing food on me. I didn't actually manage to lose a lot until I started hiding the food. If I vomit too much, I won't be able to sing at all. 

I lasted the whole summer without being bothered too much. I followed fashion shows, lost weight, ignored a few phonecalls and texts, and cut some. I know self-harm is bad, but once I started, I couldn't stop. I've got neat little rows- I think I've developed a small case of OCD, because they're all the same width apart, slanting the same way your name does because I'm just that insane, I suppose. 

I don't feel any more perfect than I was before.

Kurt

 

August 16, 2011

I made a friend today. I couldn't believe it- I still can't believe it.   
You don't care but I'll tell you about it anyway. 

In math class, a new boy was introduced. His name is Blaine Anderson and he's . . . well, he's beautiful. I know that sounds silly, but he is. Anyway, I saw him during history, but I didn't want to say anything to him. I decided to completely avoid him because I know new kids always try to befriend anyone they meet and befriending me would get him in trouble.   
Then I found out his locker is two down from mine. I was getting my books and trying to avoid him, and I heard his voice. I didn't think he was talking to me, but after a minute I poked my head out. Whatever he was saying sort of . . . died down. I'm not sure why. Maybe I'm just that terrible to look at. But anyway, he was standing there, staring at me for some reason, and then he just said hi. 

"Hi."

Just like that. 

"H-hello," I said, including that stupid stutter. And he just smiled and walked right over, stopping next to me. He's a bit shorter than I am, but he's not too small or anything.

"Blaine Anderson," he said, holding his hand out. I shook it. 

"Kurt Hummel," I said. I turned back to my locker, trying to avoid him without looking rude, but he stood there. 

"I'm new," he said, "do you think you could show me where to get lunch?"

"Sure," I said, voice trembling a bit. Why was he talking to me? He was so . . . just wonderful. And I'm me. I don't understand. But, not wanting to act rude, I put my books in my locker and told him to follow me.

"Thanks so much," he said warmly, falling into step beside me. "I really appreciate it. I haven't really met anyone." I saw him glance at my arms and wondered if he was thinking about how ugly I am, how out of shape, even though the sleeves hanged loosely on my arms. 

"Oh, well, I'm sure you'll make lots of friends," I said. "Do you play sports?"

"A bit. I'm more into music."

"That's awesome," I said, making myself smile. It was easier than usual, but I don't know why. "There's a glee club- you should join it."

"Do you sing?" he asked. 

"I love to," I said, and then almost smacked myself. I can't have questions about why I quit glee club anymore than I already have. 

"Are you in glee club?"

"No," I answered, "I don't really have the time. I . . . help my dad."

It wasn't a total lie. Sometimes I sit out there and help him out a bit, it's just not really my thing. My dad probably doesn't like having me around anyway. He's got Finn, after all, the perfect son and all that.

"Oh, that's too bad," Blaine said, and he seemed genuinely disappointed. "Maybe I can hear you sing sometime."

"Maybe," I said, brushing it off. "Here's the lunchroom."

"Aren't you going in?" he asked, looking where I pointed.

"I go in a little late," I lied. "I have some homework to double-check."

"Oh. Well, maybe we can sit together if we have time," Blaine said. "Thanks, Kurt."

"No problem," I said, not having to force the small smile on my face. I guess smiling comes easily around Blaine.

He went in and I turned to leave. 

That's when I almost crashed into Mercedes. 

Now, 'Cedes and I haven't really talked since I quit New Directions. Before, I hid all during lunch and ran from class to class, leaving as soon as possible after school. I had a bunch of texts and some calls from her that I ignored, and she even came to my house a few times, but I pretended I wasn't at home. Mercedes gets picked on enough- I'm worried that being my best friend will make her a target for Karofsky and the others if Karofsky is worried I've told her about my mark. 

"Kurt!" she gasped. I'm not quite sure why, but she looked horrified as she looked me over.

"Hey," I said. "Sorry, I'm really busy." I ran, rounding the corner quickly. I heard her calling for me and I ran all the way to the other side of the school, sitting in the science classroom and working on extra reading until lunch was over. 

At that point, students started filing in to sit down and someone sat next to me. I was surprised because usually it's the last person to come in who sits by me. 

I turned and saw Blaine, smiling and setting his books down. 

"Hey Kurt," he greeted. "I didn't see you at all during lunch."

"Oh," I said, "I had homework I forgot and I ate lunch here. I always pack lunch." I tried to smile sheepishly. 

He laughed. "Oh, I always find out I've forgotten something. I'm not sure why." 

I smiled weakly, and was glad when class started.

After class I was about to come out of one of the bathroom stalls, when I heard Blaine mention my name. 

"-is Kurt," is all I caught at first. 

"Kurt Hummel?" I heard Artie ask. 

"Yeah," Blaine said. 

"How is he doing?" Artie asked almost eagerly. 

"What?" Blaine seemed taken aback. 

"Did he seem alright?" Artie's voice was quieter. 

"Compared to what?" Blaine asked. "And why?"

"Well, I haven't seen him since May."

"At all? Was he busy over the summer?" Blaine asked, confused. 

Artie sighed. "We don't know why, but Kurt quit glee club shortly before summer break."

"What? Why?"

"No one knows. He loved to sing- we could all see that. He was really, really good; you should have heard his last solo. He liked glee club, but then one day he came in, said he was done, and left. We tried to ask him why but he just . . . disappeared. Mercedes, his best friend, tried to contact him all summer, but he never answered his phone and wasn't home when she visited him. I was wondering how he was."

"How was he before?"

"Hilarious. He was snarky and outspoken, but nice when people needed it. He was a good friend."

A tear ran down my face and I realized I was crying. Why was Artie saying such nice things about me? They weren't even true!

"He was really quiet earlier," Blaine said. "That's basically all I got out of talking to him. He was nice, he just said only what was necessary."

"Oh," Artie said. "I need to try to talk to him."

I heard their voices fade as the door opened and shut, and I sat down on the floor, crying quietly. 

Of course, then you had to find me and beat me up again just because I was crying in the bathroom. I don't know why I'm telling you any of this because you don't, and never will, care. But no matter how nice Artie was about me or how kind and wonderful Blaine is, I need to stay away from them. 

I'm not a good friend. Not at all. 

Kurt


	2. Chapter 2

August 17, 2011

Blaine came over and talked to me again this morning. I couldn't help but say hi back and then I couldn't stop talking to him.   
Well, I tried to keep quiet so I didn't say anything stupid. But he talked a lot. He's so funny. I couldn't help but laugh a few times and it felt . . . good. 

You caught me early today, though, and I ended up walking around bruised. I had a bit of a limp afterwards. 

I limped by Mercedes after school and she stopped me.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" she asked, and I couldn't run because my leg hurt so much. I winced as I stopped and turned. 

"What?" I asked politely. 

"Kurt," she said, "you quit glee club. You didn't reply to anyone over the entire summer. And now you show up to school looking like a breeze could blow you over because . . . Kurt, you're so thin."

Thin. She called me thin! "Thanks," I said, smiling, and turned. 

"'Thanks' what, Kurt?" she asked. "I'm asking what's wrong, not complimenting you!"

"Nothing's wrong," I said, "I'm just busy."

"Kurt, if this is about not finding your soulmate, don't worry. I still haven't found mine yet," she said, smiling reassuringly. 

I sort of lost it. "This isn't about not finding my soulmate," I said. "Just leave me alone!" I brushed by her and limped down the hallway, feeling like a jerk. She was trying to be nice. 

I went out back to get some air before heading home. Of course, you were out there like you always were. You screamed the usual names, kicked me a few times while I was down. My lip bled from when I bit it to keep from crying because I know that only makes you angrier. Maybe you think it's dumb or maybe our bond makes you feel guilty- I don't know. Either way, it's just best to keep quiet. 

You stopped when you hit me in the eye and a bruise formed. I could feel it, and I know that's why because you looked scared. I guess you thought someone night get you in trouble. 

Let's face it- no one cares. I should be happy, though, because it got you to stop. 

You left and I finally broke down, crying and tasting blood from my split lip. I was a wreck; worse than usual, I mean. I curled up, hugging my knees to my chest. My hands were scraped up from the ground, and my fingers were bleeding a bit. My whole body shook with sobs and I think our bond was making things especially bad because I just couldn't stop crying. 

Suddenly someone knelt by me and a hand gently touched my shoulder. 

"Kurt?" 

It was Blaine, and my heart sank. Slowly sitting up, I turned to face him, quieting my sobs.

"Shit, Kurt, your face! What happened?"

My lip trembled and I choked up again, my vision blurring. As I saw the kindness on his face, I burst into tears again, covering my face with my hands. 

Then he hugged me. His arms went around my back and he pulled me in. His chin rested on my shoulder and I gripped him tightly, still crying softly but feeling warm, almost safe. When I'd managed to calm down, he pulled away and looked at my face, gently touching my bruise. 

"Who did this, Kurt?" he asked. Then I remembered you and sat back, pulling away from Blaine's touch. You may hate me more than anything, but I can't get close to Blaine. Not as close as I was getting. 

"I tripped," I said, knowing it was stupid. 

"Kurt," Blaine said, and his voice was reprimanding yet kind, letting me know he wouldn't fall for any of that. 

"Karofsky," I said quietly, wiping the tears off my face. Blaine's expression hardened. 

"Why?" he asked. 

"Because I'm gay," I said, though that was only half true. 

"So am I," Blaine said, "but I haven't even been glared at. Why in particular does he do this?"

I didn't know what to do. Blaine seemed to know when I was lying, but I couldn't tell him the truth. 

I decided to be honest. "I can't tell you, Blaine. Please, I really can't."

"Kurt-" he protested, but I cut him off. 

"Please."

He sighed. "Fine. I'll let it go. But you need to be with someone so he can't target you."

"It doesn't matter," I said. I didn't want to have someone stuck with following me around. 

"It does," Blaine insisted. "It really, really does. You can stick with me; we share most classes, right?"

I nodded, half eager to get to know him better and half dreading it because I realized something. Something bad. 

I have a crush on someone who wasn't my soulmate. Someone perfect with a soulmate who was probably also perfect and waiting out there, somewhere, waiting to be found. I have no place in his life. 

"Why haven't you reported this?" Blaine asked softly after a moment. 

"I have," I said. "No one believes me."

"That's stupid," Blaine said, looking angry again. I sighed, standing and brushing off my clothes.

"I need to go clean up," I said, picking up my bag. Blaine stood also. 

"I'll come with you," he said, following me into the school. We quickly reached the bathroom and I pulled out my different powders that I keep for this. I grabbed a papertowel and wet it, wincing as I wiped my lip. 

Blaine took it gently. "Here," he said, "let me. I can see it better."

I held my breath as he cupped my face and wiped off the blood on my lip, feeling like an idiot. I had a soulmate, he had a soulmate, and yet . . . here I was, wishing for more than the friendship we had which was already a miracle. 

He finished and pulled away, and I let myself breathe again. As I picked up my brush, he stopped me.

"Why are you covering it up?" he asked. 

"I'm going home," I answered. "My dad . . . he's got some heart problems and I'm worried that this would hurt him too much. I can't let him see."

"Why doesn't Finn help you?" Blaine asked. "He's your step-brother, right?"

"He's busy," I said. "He's stuck in his own happy little world." 

Blaine sighed again. "I want to help you," he said. 

"Thank you," I answered, not quite sure what to say. I finished up and put my things away, slinging my bag over my shoulder. 

"Why did you quit glee club?" Blaine asked after a moment. 

I was at a loss for words, and so I did what I do best. "I have to go," I said, and hurried out the door. I heard him call for me once, but I didn't look back. 

I hope he's not angry. I just . . . I can't let him in. You should understand that since it's because of you. I really hate you, Karofsky.

But not as much as I hate myself. 

Kurt

 

August 23, 2011

I've only lost two more pounds but I feel awful. Maybe I'm taking this too fast; I don't know. 

Blaine wasn't mad at me. In fact, he didn't even mention me running out on him. He and I went out for coffee today. No, it wasn't a date. Maybe in some other world there are no soulmates, no marks, and Blaine and I have a chance. 

Ha. Maybe in the other world I'm a completely different person, then. 

Even if it wasn't (couldn't be) a date, it was . . . nice. I found out more about him. He has one brother (Cooper; in his twenties), a mother and father who don't quite like that he's gay and ignore it (idiots), and he plays guitar. He keeps his black hair slicked, but it's super curly and he hates it. 

And fate hates me. I re-read the beginning of these letters and guess what? Blaine has amber eyes. Of COURSE he has amber eyes. They're kind of goldish too, and it's not fair because it's like the world set up an ideal boy for me and then made him not mine. 

Except it's perfectly fair because I could never, ever, ever deserve him. No one could, but I'm probably the furthest. 

Anyway, I told him a bit about me; how my dad has no clue about you, how my mom died when I was little, how Finn didn't accept me at first and then moved me to tears at Dad and Carole's wedding by basically telling me in front of everyone that he finally did (he sang a song and danced with me. Blaine almost cried at the story).

Also, Blaine has the most beautiful voice. I overheard him singing in glee club (they accepted him; no surprise because how could they not?) and he's . . . amazing. Basically Blaine's everything I've ever wanted to be; kind, funny, smart, gorgeous, and so, so talented. 

I managed to avoid Mercedes again today. I wish she hated me; then this would be so much easier. 

Dad needs dinner and Carole's visiting a cousin. I'll write tomorrow.

Kurt

August 24, 2011

Today has been a long day. 

After school, you shoved me into a locker and I lost it. I followed you into the locker room to confront you and you-  
You kissed me. Why would you do that? Why? You couldn't even let me just save that first kiss for- what, though? I'm so stupid. 

Then I talked back. Of course I talked back. You hit me and told me that you would kill me if I said a word. Then you left. 

I'm so cold. My heart feels cold again and I hate it. I hate it, hate it, hate it. I just want to die. 

Blaine found me because he was looking for me. He still thinks he can protect me. He knelt by me again and hugged me. 

"Kurt, what happened?" he asked. I wasn't even crying. I couldn't. 

I gave up on the threats. You can kill me if you want, I just had to say something. 

"He kissed me," I said numbly. 

"What?!"

"Karofsky-"

"Yes, I heard that!" Blaine said, angry. I turned to look at him and he gasped. 

"What?"

"Your face, there's a hand mark-"

He looked so kind but angry at you that I covered my face and let the tears flow again. Why is it that I am so weak in front of the one person I wish saw me as strong?

Blaine took my hand and pulled me to my feet.

"Let's get you home," he said. "I'll drive you." 

He led me out of the school. I don't know if anyone saw us, I just followed him blindly. I don't remember telling him our address, but we were at my front door pretty quickly. 

Of course, my dad answered the door. 

"Hello," he greeted Blaine. "Oh, hi Ku- what the hell happened to your face?!"

Then I remembered the hand print. 

"I need to talk to you privately, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said. I barely noticed as he sat me on the couch and my dad pulled him aside to talk. I sat there, staring dumbly at the floor. I think a while passed but I'm not sure. 

When my dad came back, he was shaking. He knelt in front of me, grasping one of my hands. 

"I'm gonna go talk to the school board," he said quietly. "Blaine offered to stay here until I come back."

"Okay," I said, not quite sure what to say. "I-I'm sorry."

"Hey, son. This is NOT your fault. I'm gonna get this fixed. Carole won't be back until Sunday and Finn's over at Rachel's house again, but Blaine will be here. What was this kid's name?"

"David Karofsky," I whispered. 

My dad went positively white and I knew he remembered the name; your name, imprinted on my wrist until the day I die. 

"Kurt, oh Kurt," he said. His eyes teared up and he stood. "This is gonna get fixed somehow, I swear." He gave ne a brief hug and then he was gone. 

Soon after, Blaine sat by me on the couch. 

"Do you need to talk?" he asked quietly. 

"No," I answered softly. "Please just sit with me."

And he sat closer, pulling me into a gentle hug and sitting there, stroking his hand through my hair.

I'm so tired. 

Kurt

 

August 25, 2011

My dad came home yesterday and wouldn't say a word. He shut himself in his room and finally came out a while later, furious but quiet. 

"They said we have no proof," he told me. "They're letting him stay."

I wasn't really surprised. Your parents are very connected to the school, funding a lot of extra activities and all that, and kicking you out would make that all stop. 

Blaine, who had sat quietly with me for several hours, had to go, and he bid us goodnight before heading out. My dad shook hands with him and thanked him before sitting by me. 

"I like that kid. He's good to you."

"I like him too," I said, voice a little hoarse.

"It's just not fair, is it, Kurt?" he said. I shook my head. 

"No."

"I wish it was him," he said. "He would be good for you."

"I wish that too," was all I said, and he smiled weakly at me. 

"I'm sorry," he answered. 

I skipped school today. Dad wouldn't have let me go if I'd wanted to. We're still figuring things out.

Kurt


	3. Chapter 3

August 27, 2011

Hey, this is Blaine. Blaine Anderson. Anyone reading this knows who I am, I suppose. 

Let me explain by starting with this morning. 

I came to check on Kurt, after the whole fiasco with Ka- you, I suppose he would say. He'd skipped school two days in a row and I know he was figuring things out, but I just had to see if he was better at all. He was alone at home, and he was very quiet when he let me in. 

"Hey," I said, "how are you doing?"

"Fine," he said as if it was automatic. I looked him over. Ever since I met him I've seen that he was really thin, and it's worried me. His eyes were underlined with dark circles and that damn handprint was still a red mark on his cheek. 

"Kurt, I know you're not fine," I said. 

Then the oddest thing happened. I guess he sort of snapped, fed up with all the shit he's gone through. "Why do you even care?!" he yelled, eyes filling up with tears. 

"Because you're an amazing person who shouldn't have to go through any of this," I said as calmly as I could, though he looked so tormented my heart broke for him. 

"'Amazing'?" he asked incredulously. "There is nothing amazing about me, Blaine, except maybe my stupidity."

"What do you mean?" I asked, a little lost. 

"I mean that I'm a pathetic, stupid screwup," he said bitterly. I sort of went mute at the because the most wonderful boy I had ever met had just called himself that and . . . how could he see himself like that? How can he still?

"You're not, Kurt, you're really, really not," I said, thinking desperately for a way to show him. 

"Why do you bother with me, Blaine?" he asked, voice quiet again. 

"Because I like you Kurt," I said, finally, "I really, really like you."

It took him a moment to get my meaning, to understand to what extent I liked him, but when he did, he stumbled back, tripping a bit until his back hit the kitchen counter. 

"Blaine . . . you don't mean that," he said, his voice trembling as he gripped the edge of the counter with his long fingers.

"I do," I insisted. 

"You can't!" he cried. 

"Why not?" I asked, frustrated at the whole situation. 

"You have your own soulmate!"

"I don't!" I said. "I've never had a name or a mark of any sort." It's true. I never got a soulmark. 

"No, no, no," he said, closing his eyes tightly, "you can't do that to me."

"Why?"

"Because Karofsky's my soulmate even though I'm half in love with you!" 

I froze, shocked. My brain stopped functioning and I just stood there, staring. After all Kurt had been through, there just had to be more, didn't there? 

"Kurt-" I finally got out. He looked at me for one long second, his beautiful eyes full of tears, before he turned and ran, the door slamming behind him. 

I reacted a minute later. 

"Kurt!" I shouted, running out after him. I couldn't see him anywhere, but I crossed the street, calling for him.  
Then I realized that I had no idea what he could be doing. Frantic, I ran back inside. His phone was lying on the counter and I quickly found his dad's number. 

He answered almost right away. "Hello?"

"Mr. Hummel! Kurt told me about Karofsky and then freaked out and- he left. I can't find him." I suddenly felt like a complete fool.

"Damn!" he swore loudly. 

"I'm sorry," I said, heading back out the door and running down the sidewalk, looking for any sign of Kurt. 

"It's not your fault," he said. 

"But-"

"Stop. You've helped Kurt more than anyone else; don't blame yourself. I'm heading over there. I should be there in thirty minutes. If we haven't found him by the time I get there, I'll call the police."

"Alright. I'm looking. I, uh, have his phone because he left it."

"If I need to contact you, I'll call it, then," he said. "And Blaine?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I don't give a damn about marks. If you find him, tell him how you feel."

He'd hanged up before I could answer, and I slid the phone in my pocket and set off searching for him again. 

I found him in under fifteen minutes, in the park nearby. He was in a shaded area, curled up on the griund much like he'd been the two times I'd found him after Kar- you beat him. I ran to him, calling his name, but he didn't answer. 

When I got to him and knelt by him, I turned him on his back to find a puddle of blood. I quickly found the source- on his wrist where his mark must have been were three wide slashes that were losing blood quickly, a bloody razor blade lying by his arm. I pulled off my button up shirt and wrapped it around his wrist, thankful that it was only one side. Kurt stirred but didn't wake. 

I quickly called 911 and then Kurt's dad.

"Did you find him?" he asked as soon as he picked up.

"Yeah," I said breathlessly, trying to wake Kurt while I held the shirt around his wrist tightly. "He's cut his arm. I called an ambulance. We're at the park."

"He-" His dad cut himself off. After a moment he spoke again. "I'll meet you at the hospital."

He hung up and I dropped the phone, freaking out. 

"Kurt, please, wake up," I begged, finally seeing the bblood flow slow down a bit. I brushed the hair from his eyes and he stirred again, his eyes opening slowly. 

"Blaine?"

"Kurt! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have sprung that on you-"

"S'not your fault," he said, voice slurring sleepily. His eyes started to drift shut.

"Stay awake, Kurt!" I yelled. I was surprised no one had heard us and come to see what was wrong. 

"I'm so tired, Blaine," Kurt said. 

"I know, but you shouldn't sleep."

"Am I gonna die?" he asked slowly. 

"No you're fucking not," I said, forgetting to keep a reign on my language and not really caring. 

"Blaine . . . just let me," he said. "I'm tired. I want to die."

For the second time that day, I completely shut down, eyes wide with shock. 

"Kurt-" his eyes closed again and I panicked. "Kurt, wake up! I can't let you die because I love you!"

He looked up at me tiredly for a moment. "Love . . . you too," he said, and his eyes shut and didn't open again. 

"Kurt!" I yelled again, but nothing happened. Finally I heard the sirens of the ambulance in the distance and I began praying. I prayed so hard that I wouldn't lose him.

After that is a bit of a blur; the paramedics came and I rode with them, holding Kurt's hand the whole time, but thats all I know. I think I talked to him, but I can't really remember. 

The next thing I knew, I was in the waiting room, a cooling cup of coffee in my hands. Mr. Hummel was sitting by me, and Finn had just walked in, a white-faced Rachel with him. 

No one said anything. Agonizing minutes ticked by, and it felt like a year before an hour and a half had passed. It was close to two hours later that a doctor showed up. I didn't understand most of what he said, but I gathered that they'd given Kurt more blood and stitched him up; however, the problem was emotional, not physical. I'd figured that much. He also said that Kury was extremely under weight and needed to go on a very healthy and careful diet when he woke up. 

After another wait I was allowed to see him. 

He was asleep and he looked more frail than ever on that hospital bed, a few IVs hooked into his left arm at the elbow. His dad sat by him and took his hand but I could only stare. 

How could I have gone so wrong? I couldn't help but feel like I could have prevented this. 

I sat on his other side and brushed his hair away from his forehead again. I smiled slightly at that. He hated his hair being in his face but it always was if he didn't style it. His forehead was cold, and I retracted my hand quickly, a sinking feeling in my chest as I realized he felt like a corpse. 

No. I was not going to go there. No matter what happened between us, he was going to live. 

I noticed the black straps on his arms and realized that that was going to be a hard fight, keeping him alive. His wrist was heavily bandaged and I swallowed, remembering the blood. 

"Thank you," Burt said softly. 

"This is my fault," I said, feeling as if I had to tell him. "I told him how I felt and he did this."

"It's not your fault," Burt said, and his face was honest. "Kurt's always blamed himself for everything too, but this isn't on either of you. This is on that damn kid for hurting him, for being his fucking soulmate."

I sighed. "I don't know how the whole soulmate thing works, but whatever makes it happen really screwed up."

"Yes," he said, looking at me, "it really did."

"I don't have a mark," I said. He looked taken aback.

"You don't?" he asked incredulously. I shook my head. 

"No. I never have." I rolled up my sleeve. "See?" I knew that there were other places you could have one, but I had to show him I didn't have one on my wrist, at least. 

"Blaine . . . " he said in a strange voice and I looked down. 

"What the hell?!" I exclaimed, feeling extreme shock for the third time that day. There, right where my wrist connected to my hand, was Kurt's name in thin, black letters. "I swear that wasn't there even earlier," I said, still stunned. 

"I guess fate decided it really had screwed up," Burt said in an awed voice. We sat in silence for a bit and just stared at my arm. I couldn't believe it. Had Kurt's changed, or was mine just weird? What had happened? 

Burt finally called the doctor in.

"How can I help you?" he asked kindly. 

"Would it be safe to remove Kurt's bandage?" Burt asked, apparently thinking the same thing I was. 

"He's stitched up and restrained, so I suppose so," the doctor said; "why?"

"The strangest thing happened," Burt said, and quickly explained the mark thing. 

"I remember seeing bits of a name when I stitched him up," said the doctor, "let's take a look." He pulled out some scissors and carefully cut away Kurt's bandage. 

All three of us looked at Kurt's arm quietly for a moment. Around the three rows of black stitches was a name. 

My name. 

The doctor swallowed. "I swear that was different before," he said quietly. Kurt's dad nodded. 

"For seventeen years he's had the name 'David Karofsky' written on his wrist," he said. "I can't believe it."

"I've been a doctor for thirty years and I have never encountered anything like this," the doctor said in an awe-filled voice. 

I just sat there, my mind whirling. 

Now all that's left is for the meds to wear off and Kurt to wake up, because he and I need to talk. 

And you and I will definitely be talking, Karofsky.

Blaine Anderson

 

August 28, 2011

Hello. I'm back- Kurt, that is. I'll have to catch you up. 

I woke up on Sunday in a hospital bed when I'd thought I'd never wake up again. The first thing I saw was Blaine smiling at me, eyes full of tears. My dad said something I couldn't hear and left. 

I felt my vision blur as I remembered the day before. Blaine said he loved me, but I had a soulmate. It was impossible. 

"Kurt?" he questioned softly. He took my hand in his and it felt so warm and comforting. I turned my head away, willing the tears to disappear, but Blaine gently cupped my face and turned it toward him. I looked down at our intertwined hands, taking a shuddering breath. 

"I'm sorry," I said, thinking about how hard it must have been for him. 

"Don't be," Blaine said. "I blamed myself too, but your dad pointed out that it's not either of us that's at fault."

"Did I scare you?" I asked, feeling guilty. 

"More than I've ever been," Blaine said. I looked up but I couldn't handle his intense gaze, and so I looked down again. 

"I'm sorry," I whispered again. 

"Kurt," he said exasperatedly. "It's not your fault."

"I don't know what to do," I said after a moment. "Karofsky will never really be my soulmate."

Blaine's eyes shone and I looked at him confusedly. 

"Kurt, I have to show you something," he said. "But first, they took the restraints off you, so please don't try anything."

"I won't," I promised, watching him curiously. 

"For seventeen years I've had no name on me, no mark," Blaine said. "But today something happened." He released my hand and rolled up his sleeve pulling his arm up for me to see. "Your name appeared on my wrist."

I looked and there it was, 'Kurt Hummel' written on his arm. I didn't know what to do, but I fought back tears so I could look at him. 

"But what about my mark?" I asked.

"Look at it," Blaine said, sounding eager. I brought my wrist up and looked at it. Two long rows of ugly, black stitches ran down my arms, but around them was the most beautiful thing: 'Blaine Anderson' was written on my arm, and 'David Karofsky' was completely gone. 

Blaine and I had somehow turned into soulmates.

"I-" I started, but stopped, not feeling like words were adequate. 

"Kurt," Blaine said, taking my hand and resting our forearms together, "you move me and I- I love you. I have to say it now. I think I loved you the first time I saw you, so tired and frail but beautiful nonetheless."

A few tears slid down my face, but I still saw Blaine clearly, so I let them fall. 

"Blaine," I said, "I love you too. So, so much."

Blaine leaned forward, the hand that wasn't holding mine reaching up and cupping my face gently, his thumb brushing away my tears. 

"You're my soulmate," he said breathlessly, "we can be together forever."

Then he leaned forward and kissed me softly, letting go of my hand and cupping my face with both of his. I slid my arms around his neck, leaning into him and kissing back, my hand sliding into his hair. We parted too soon, but he leaned in again shortly after, kissing me firmly. 

We didn't break apart until Finn came in, followed by someone I'd never seen before. It only took me a second to recognize him as Cooper, Blaine's brother. 

"Cooper!" Blaine exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Cooper said, "I came for a surprise visit to my brother. I get to the house, and mom and dad say he's not at home. They give me a number of some friend of his and I call it. Then some guy answers the phone and introduces himself as 'Mr. Hummel' and tells me my little brother's in the hospital. After much confusion I find out that he's not the injured person. Then, after some long story about a boy having the wrong soulmate or something, I come here and find my bro making out with a patient."

"Oh," Blaine said. "I would have brought you up to date if I'd known you were coming."

"It's alright," Cooper said, sitting in a chair. Finn stood awkwardly to the side. "I just freaked out for a minute." His eyes glanced over me and stopped on my stitched up wrist, his expression softening. "Who's this?" he asked Blaine.

"My soulmate," Blaine said proudly, interlocking our hands. 

"What?" Copper raised an eyebrow. "Blaine, you don't have a soulmark."

"I do now." Blaine held out his wrist and Cooper started. 

"What the hell?! When did that happen?"

Blaine sighed. "Kurt had a soulmate named Karofsky-"

"What?!" Finn exclaimed. 

"Okay, sit down. This is a long story," Blaine said.

Then he started telling them. 

I'm writing as they listen (Blaine gave this to me; my dad brought it to the hospital in case there was something important in it and Blaine confessed to writing in it) but they're just about done now.

I'm not cold anymore, Karofsky. I'm so, so warm.

Kurt

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering writing another fic to accompany this one; either one where Blaine kept a journal at the same time, or one where Blaine and Kurt start a new journal together.


End file.
